


The Nameless Island Beyond the Veil

by Fox_Salz



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Drinking, Heavy Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Horror, Past Drug Use, Porn Mention, Sexual Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/pseuds/Fox_Salz
Summary: While Stanford is being nursed back to health by Fiddleford, Stan and Rick are following a treasure map to an island beyond the veil of our reality. What starts off as a great romantic getaway, however, soon turns lovecraftian.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My other piece for the stanchez micro-bang. These fandoms also needs more ancient abominations, and here I am delivering.

It was a clear day, no storms in sight. The sky was an inviting blue and there was a steady wind blowing in just the direction they would soon be heading. All in all it was a perfect day for sailing.

 

At least that’s what his sailor told him. Rick didn’t have a clue and didn’t give a shit. All that mattered was that he was spending a week alone with Stan.

 

The twins had stumbled on a treasure map not too long ago. Stumbled on, stole it from some shady blackmarket dealer, whatever. Regardless, Ford had gotten injured so Stan had asked Rick to come with him to go find it. Stan had actually gotten all flustered like a fucking school girl, too. It had been adorable (not that he would ever admit that out loud).

 

So here they were about to get on the Stan o’ War II and sail out.

 

“Are you sure you have everything, Stanley?”

 

“Yup. Food, water, rope, et cetera.”

 

“And you’ve checked the ship over? No last minute repairs need to be made? The sea dragon we encountered could have easily left damages we wouldn’t necessarily notice at first, especially considering we were preoccupied with my injuries.”

 

“Stop worrying, Sixer. Rick and me’ll be fine,” Stan assured.

 

“Yeah, Stanford, don’t worry. I’ll bring your brother back in one piece.” Rick belched. “Probably.”

 

Ford watched Stan load another box onto the ship. He opened his mouth, but Rick quickly talked over him.

 

“A-are you going to list rules I have to follow next? Tuck him in before midnight, cut his goddamn sandwiches?”

 

Ford smirked. “He prefers it without crust.”

 

“Got it. Do I have to read him a bedtime story, too?”

 

“Act it out, it helps keep him engaged.”

 

Stan groaned, slapping a hand to his face.

 

“I can hear you, ya know.” They snickered. “Why do I let you two talk to each other?”

 

Rick went over and threw an arm around him. “Hey, lighten up, Lee. I-I’m a great babysitter.”

 

“I could leave you here with the other nerds and sail off without you,” Stan pointed out.

 

“Hey, speaking of old Fiddlesticks, where is he?” Rick wondered, ignoring the hollow threat.

 

There was a sharp whistle down the boardwalk, and the trio turned to see Fiddleford running towards them. He was carrying an unmarked box that he handed over to Stan.

 

“Whoo! Sorry it took so long, fellas. I just wanted to make ya a little somethin’ for yer romantic getaway.”

 

Stan sputtered, face reddening. “Don’t call it that!”

 

“Hell yeah, thanks Fiddles,” Rick said, opening a corner of the box to peek inside. “We’ll, _urp_ , put this to good use. Have fun with the boring twin.”

 

Using his non-injured hand Ford held up two middle fingers.

 

“You two stay safe now. And Stanley, I promise ta nurse yer brother back to health so don’t you fret about him.”

 

“Yeah, great. I’m shoving off now,” Stan mumbled. He grabbed Rick by the lab coat and pulled him along. “Come on.”

 

Fiddleford went over to Ford’s side, taking the arm that wasn’t in a sling, and they waved the couple off. When they had lifted anchor and undocked Ford turned to his companion.

 

“What did you make them, dear?”

 

“Moonshine.”

 

Stanford paled and silently hoped the Stan o’ War came back in one piece.

 

——

 

Stan examined the map with a careful eye. The treasure they were searching for was on an island that wasn’t exactly part of the physical world. Ford had said it was _beyond the veil_ , and the only way to slip into this ethereal plane was by sea. They had to travel through a very specific point to reach the other side. Just a foot too far either north or south and they’d miss it completely.

 

It would be a full day before they reached that critical point. Until then he and Rick would just have to pass the time with bad jokes and powerful moonshine.

 

Stan rolled up the map and turned to Rick who had donned an eyepatch he’d taken from him. Struck with inspiration he asked, “What letter do pirates love?”

 

“Arrgh,” Rick guessed.

 

“Nope, it’s the ‘c’ that’ll always hold their heart.”

 

“Cute,” Rick chuckled.

 

As Stan tucked the map safely away he came over with a bottle of moonshine and snaked an arm around Stan’s waist. He pressed the tip to Stan’s lips; Stan brought a hand up to help steady the bottle as Rick tilted it back. He took a hearty taste.

 

“Hot damn, that’s some powerful stuff.”

 

“’S fucking good,” Rick agreed, taking a swig himself. Stan knew he’d have to drink a lot more to catch up.

 

He took the moonshine and gazed out at the calm waters.

 

“It’s gorgeous out here,” Stan commented huskily. “Thanks for coming with me.”

 

Rick made a noncommittal sound. For a minute they lapsed into silence, the cawing birds above and the gentle sloshing of water against the boat the only sounds out there.

 

“Hey, Lee? H-how does an old sailor get his mast up?”

 

“How?”

 

“Come over here and find out.”

 

Grinning, Stan turned back around. Rick was already undressing.

 

“Can’t say no to a good punchline,” Stan replied, popping his top button.

 

——

 

The world had gone eerily quiet.

 

There was _something_ in the air. Magic, Stan guessed.

 

The sun was starting to ease its way down the horizon. Just ahead of them was a strange glisten, both in sky and sea. The veil.

 

Stan kept them on course straight for the otherworldly gleam. Rick was leaning against the wheel post, looking out at their destination.

 

“So what are we supposed to find on this island?”

 

Stan grinned wide. “No idea.”

 

His sense of adventure was contagious, and Rick returned the grin.

 

Soon they were right on the tear between worlds. They sailed through.

 

Suddenly everything was a different hue. Colors were muted, like an old tv that needed to be readjusted. There was no sun anymore, either. Everything remained bizarrely still.

 

“Yeesh,” Stan said, “it’s like ‘The Langoliers’ at sea.”

 

“I-its hilarious how you call everyone else a nerd then say shit like that.”

 

“There’s nothing nerdy about the horror genre.”

 

“You keep telling yourself that, Lee.”

 

Stan glared at Rick, but the other man was unsurprisingly unfazed. Finally Stan just huffed and unfurled the map.

 

According to this they’d be on top of the island in no time. Stan pulled out his spyglass and took a good look at their surroundings. Sure enough he spotted a landmass not too far off.

 

It would be close to an hour before they reached it, so the men spent that time gleefully guessing what they would find. The map didn’t betray anything, and everything was a wild, baseless guess.

 

Stan was all smiles when he finally anchored the Stan o’ War. Like a kid let loose in a candy store he grabbed his satchel and raced off the boat. The sand beneath his feet was the same as theirs on the other side, though like everything else its color was just a bit off. But it felt like regular sand and smelt like the sea.

 

There were rocky cliffs on either side of the beach they’d landed on. Stan examined the map. The trek to the treasure wasn’t going to be as simple as following a drawn path. Symbols lined the scroll, some easily recognizable and some more esoteric that they’d have to figure out along the way.

 

“So, _urp_ , so where do we go, Lee?”

 

“This way,” Stan replied, grabbing Rick’s wrist and pulling him along.

 

The island was beautiful in an eerie way. It was very still, like there was nothing living but the unspeaking foliage. Even that was overwhelmingly olive, no budding fruits or flowers anywhere.

 

“We need to find this marking,” Stan said, holding the map up for Rick to see.

 

“Where’s it supposed to be?”

 

“Near a tree.”

 

Rick looked around them; there were an abundance of trees.

 

“Anything more specific?”

 

“It should look like this one,” Stan explained, indicating another symbol. The tree looked distinct, at least, with branches twisted bizarrely upwards.

 

They climbed to the top of the nearest cliff for a better view. It wasn’t the best vantage point, but it was their only option for higher ground. They could see over the treetops for several miles.

 

Stan spotted it first: a mile off, a tree with branches bent towards the sky.

 

“See? This is going to be a piece of cake.”

 

“A-all I know is this treasure better be worth it.”

 

“Isn’t it worth it to spend time with me?”

 

“The treasure better be really fucking good.”

 

Stan happily flipped him off as he started back down the cliff.

 

There were still no signs of any other life as they made their way through the woods. Even so Rick felt like something was watching them.

 

“You were right, Lee, i-it, it’s like Stephen King crashed into Gilligan’s Island up in here.”

 

“I told you. It’s unnatural.”

 

“Well, Lee, it is an island only accessed by sailing through a tear in reality.”

 

——

 

When they reached the large, twisted, tree, Stan started searching around for the next symbol. He tried around the base of the tree, getting down on his knees to clear away vines and fallen leaves. There, carved into the uncovered root, was an oblong circle with an indent in the middle.

 

To Stan’s surprise it was filled with some strange black liquid.

 

Peering over his should Rick asked, “That supposed to be there?”

 

“Nothing about it on the map. I’m sure it’s fine.”

 

Rick took out a pen from his lab coat and dipped it into the substance. When he lifted it back up the substance hung thickly from the tip. Rick examined it carefully, but it wasn’t anything he was familiar with.

 

He waved the pen in an attempt to shake off the black gunk. It was stuck, however; he just dropped the pen.

 

“It’s pointing southeast,” Stan said, grabbing Rick’s arm. “Let’s go.”

 

For hours it went like that, searching for the different markers. Interestingly enough, each one they found had globs of the unknown gunk on them.

 

It still appeared that they were absolutely alone on the island, and they filled up the silence themselves, the conversations ricocheting from topic to topic.

 

At one point Rick commented, “Th- _urp_ -there are seven E.T. pornos in this dimension.”

 

“I refuse to believe that.”

 

“I’m serious. There’s one dimension with twelve.”

 

“Why would you make that many?” Stan wondered in disgust. “Why would you even make one?”

 

“I-it takes all kinds, Lee.”

 

Stan sighed. “You’ve seen every one, haven’t you?”

 

Shrugging Rick admitted, “Sometimes I have ah-a-a lot of time on my hands. Don’t judge me, Lee.”

 

Eventually they stopped to rest and revaluate the map. The trail had gone cold some time ago, and they had ended up walking in a circle.

 

Rick took out his flask he had filled with moonshine, and gladly took a drink. Squinting up at the sky he noted, “Time, _urp_ , doesn’t seem to be passing. It should’ve been dark by now.”

 

“Yeah. Sky hasn’t changed at all.” Stan glanced over at his companion. “Ya know, water hydrates a lot better.”

 

Rick belched loudly in response and took another swig.

 

Stan rolled his eyes and they continued their search, this time taking a different path. It didn’t do them much good, however, when they ended up on another end of the beach with no idea where to go next.

 

“Oh wow, great treasure hunt so far, Lee.”

 

Stan shot him a dark look and thrust the map at his chest. “Here, make yourself useful instead of just whining. See if you can make heads or tails of this damn thing. I gotta go take a leak.”

 

“Don’t get lost,” Rick teased, sitting down on a nearby rock and burying his head in the parchment. “When you get back I’ll have th-this bullshit map figured out. I-I swear if this is some weak ass ‘love is the real treasure’ we-we’re fucking robbing a bank instead.”

 

He heard Stan grumble something in reply as he walked off. Rick studied the map carefully. It was nothing but nonsensical doodles and a nondescript outline of the island.

 

If it was up to him, Rick would probably just give up and enjoy a week of getting wrecked on the boat. But Stan wanted to do this, specifically with him, and maybe in his old age Rick was going soft. Or else his common sense was finally evaporating. Either way Rick was going to figure out this goddamn map for Stan.

 

His reverie was broken by a light touch on the small of his back that he instantly arched into. It trailed to his hip, caressing him.

 

Rick grinned, not taking his eyes off the map. “You s-start that up, Lee, and we’ll never find this treasure.”

 

“You say something, babe?” Stan asked, voice farther away than it should be.

 

Rick froze. He looked up to see Stan at the edge of the woods.

 

There was still a pressure on his hip.

 

Then Stan glanced over, eyes widening. “Rick, _run_.”

 

In a flash Rick lurched to his feet and raced towards Stan who had slipped on his brass knuckles. Rick craned his head back; there was a long, glistening tentacle reaching out of the water.

 

“Oh, shit! Lee, you failed to mention there’d be sea monsters!”

 

“How was I supposed to know?”

 

The tentacle lashed out at them, cutting the conversation short. Stan pushed Rick behind him and punched the black appendage away.

 

To their surprise an indignant screech bubbled out of the tentacle.

 

“Alright, I’m out.”

 

Rick pulled out his portal gun as Stan grappled with the beast.

 

“What about my boat?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Lee! First let’s—“ Rick pressed the button, but nothing happened. “Fuck.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked, batting the tentacle away.

 

Frantically hitting the button again and again with the same results, Rick let out a groan. He slammed the side of the device with his fist.

 

“Fuck! Y-y-you son of a bitch!”

 

Stan ducked just as the tentacle struck out; it sailed over his head. He punched up, striking the tentacle with an audible _smack_. It reared up with another howl.

 

Then out in the sea the water rippled. Two more tentacles emerged. As they lunged out to join the first, Rick grabbed Stan by the collar and yanked him towards the woods. Thankfully he didn’t protest.

 

“Why the hell aren’t we portaling out of here?” Stan demanded.

 

“Oh, now you don’t care about leaving your stupid ship.”

 

“Can it, Rick! We could be portaling onto the Stan o’ War and sailing the hell out of here!” Stan dodged to the side, barely avoiding being struck in the face by brambles. “I thought you charged that thing?”

 

“I— _fuck!”_ Rick exclaimed, stumbling. Stan quickly reached out and steadied him. “I did. Apparently it doesn’t fucking work on this side of the veil.”

 

“Great. So now we have to run all the way around the island and get on the boat before Tentacles McGee—“

 

There was a tremendous crash disturbingly close to them. They shared a look and ran faster.

 

Out of the trees ahead of them another tendril snaked about. They took a sharp right. The new appendage thrashed against trees, giving chase.

 

“Starting to think th-that map isn’t pointing to treasure!”

 

“Yeah,” Stan agreed, veering away from a low hanging branch, “you’re probably right.”

 

“Pretty sure it’s a warning about eldritch abominations.”

 

“I get it, Rick!”

 

“I’m just saying—you su- _urp_ -ck at dates.”

 

“Not the time!”

 

They kept running, the sounds of angry tentacles following them, until they came to a clearing. It became abruptly silent. They paused briefly, panting and leaning against the tree line.

 

Rick glanced around the barren clearing, noting that absolutely nothing grew here. No grass, no saplings, no little buds of any sort; it was even emptier than the rest of the island.

 

“Yeesh,” Stan huffed. “This place is creepy.”

 

Rick walked over to the middle of the clearing and bent down. He pinched the dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. Oddly it had traces of that black ooze that had coated the symbols earlier. 

 

He heard Stan coming up behind him and turned to comment on what he’d found. The words died on his tongue, however, as the ground rumbled. Rick fell back while Stan stumbled forward; he managed to throw his arms out, stopping himself from eating dirt.

 

As abruptly as it had begun, the island stilled.

 

Stan groaned, pushing himself back up. He went over and helped Rick to his feet.

 

“I don’t know what that was about, and I think I don’t want to find out.”

 

“Too bad, ‘cause I’m pretty sure that’s the answer.”

 

Stan followed his gaze. There was something dark seeping from the woods. He spun around, only to find it was coming from all sides.

 

Pressing his back against Rick’s he hoped, “Got anything helpful in that lab coat, babe?”

 

Rick watched the gunk seep into the clearing. It slowly crept towards the couple. Rick picked up a rock and tossed it. It landed on the top of the black substance and was quickly washed over, consumed by the ooze.

 

“I just _had_ t-to fall for a sailor,” Rick grumbled, taking out his flask.

 

The blackness finally reached their feet. Stan kicked out, and the strange substance suddenly solidified, a tendril snapping out and latching onto his leg. With a yelp Stan knocked back into Rick. He lurched forward, the flask flying out of his hands. As it sailed over the blackness the moonshine inside leaked out. The ooze reeled back from the alcohol, a piercing screech emanating from all around them.

 

Stan’s hands flew up to his ears as they watched the ooze flail like it was in pain. The gunk distanced itself from the flask, parting around it. Rick quickly retrieved the flask. It was nearly empty; they’d only have one chance.

 

Grabbing Stan, Rick threw the last of the moonshine in front of them. The blackness flinched away as though touching fire, screeches intensifying. They ran through the gap, Stan punching away anything that tried to touch them.

 

They broke free of the clearing and out of the ooze’s range. They weaved through the trees, high tailing it to the beach where they had anchored.

 

It wasn’t empty.

 

Something else had reared out of the ocean. Something large and indescribable. Though they both looked directly at the creature, neither could quite tell _what_ exactly they were look at—its features seemed to shift so constantly and so rapidly that no defining details registered.

 

A breathy, inhuman whisper tickled the inside of their ears. The words couldn’t be understood, but its message was clear: this creature was ancient, and it was angry.

 

The longer they gazed at it the louder the indecipherable words became, causing their heads to pound. Rick couldn’t tear his eyes from the strange visage, though.

 

For Stan, there was something familiar reverberating in the back of his mind. It was equally ancient, equally angry, and so _dangerous_. Stan forced himself to turn away, knowing it was something that shouldn’t be fed.

 

The Stan o’ War was tantalizingly close. The creature was closer, however, and Stan knew even if they managed to board and tried to sail away it wouldn’t just let them leave.

 

“Don’t look at it,” Stan ordered firmly, pushing Rick behind him.

 

This snapped Rick out of the creature’s mesmerizing hold. He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog, and noticed the familiar fighting stance Stan had adopted.

 

“W-what the fuck are you planning on doing, Lee?”

 

“You’re going senile in your old age if you think I’m planning things through.”

 

Without warning Stan charged at the watery abomination. It let out a tremendous howl and two tentacles rose from the ocean. They lashed out at Stan; he dodged one and struck the other. The contact wasn’t hard enough to deter the appendage, however, and it kept coming for him.

 

It knocked into Stan’s chest, taking the wind from his lungs. The other one quickly curled around his waist and squeezed. He struggled in the vice like grip, but that only served to make the tentacle hold on tighter.

 

At least his hands were free. Stan stood his ground and punched out at the second tentacle. It danced just out of his reach, occasionally snapping at his face. At one point it caught his cheek and left a nasty gash.

 

“Don’t die!” Rick called out, suddenly racing towards the ship.

 

“Trying not to!”

 

He didn’t have time to wonder just what the hell Rick was up to. The tentacle flung itself at his face. His hands flew up, taking the brunt of the attack.

 

Finally Stan got ahold of the second, slick appendage and put it in a choke hold. It thrashed about in his arms but somehow Stan didn’t let it get loose.

 

Then he was being lifted in the air. Stan made the mistake of looking down; he was struck instantly with vertigo. His grip slackened just enough for the tentacle to escape. It reared up, smacking him hard on the bottom of his jaw. Through dazed vision he saw the tentacle rise, then dart towards him. Stan braced for impact, but it never came.

 

“Drink up, motherfucker!”

 

Stan didn’t realize he was falling until he landed roughly on the sand. The tentacle had let go of him, and both were now writhing in the air. There was an agonized shrieking; Stan realized it was the creature and glanced over. Rick stood in front of the indecipherable abomination triumphantly, empty moonshine bottle in his hand.

 

Grinning wide as it occurred to him what he’d done Stan said, “Good thinking, Rick.”

 

Stan pushed himself up, readjusted his brass knuckles, and swung _hard_. His fist collided with one of the tentacles and it let out a very satisfying wail.

 

A bottle whizzed past his head. His eyes followed it as it smashed into the second tentacle that had snuck up behind Stan.

 

“Good aim, babe.”

 

Stan turned to Rick who had come over. A tentacle lashed out at him, but Stan quickly punched it down onto the sand where Rick stomped its tip.

 

“I’m, _urp_ , done with this lovecraftian bullshit.”

 

Stan started to agree, but then another screech pierced the quiet. The creature’s ever-shifting head thrashed itself closer to the shore, almost like it planned on dragging itself out of the water to swallow them whole. If it even had a mouth; its features were glitching even more rapidly than before. It was impossible to even guess what it had.

 

The beast lurched towards them. Stan reared back and with all his strength struck it with a powerful blow. It howled anew, but Stan didn’t relent. He punched and kicked the weakened beast back into the sea.

 

Rick’s eyes were glued to the sight, partly due to the abomination’s mesmer and partly due to just how hot it was to watch Stan beat someone up. Especially if it was an ancient creature that was trying to kill them.

 

As the thing sunk back under the water, the island rumbled petulantly. The couple waited for it to settle down, and after a moment everything was as still as when they had landed. Rick breached the silence first.

 

“Y-you’re never picking our dates again.”

 

“Oh, like yours are any safer,” Stan said indignantly. “Remember when you ground up mega seeds with collaxion crystal and snorted it?”

 

“Barely.”

 

“You nearly overdosed and I got shot at by space cops.”

 

“Oh yeah.” There was a pause. Then, “Blitz and Chips next time?”

 

“Sure, Rick,” Stan agreed with a chuckle, snaking an arm around Rick's waist and pulling him close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Rick’s neck. “Thank Moses for moonshine.”

 

“Fuck yeah. P-pretty hot how you punched Cthulhu, by the way. That really did it for me.”

 

Stan threw back his head and guffawed. “You’re a twisted man, babe.”

 

He didn’t protest as Rick pulled him towards the Stan o’ War.

**Author's Note:**

> Never question moonshine. That stuff can kill anything.
> 
> Also, yeah, our dimension has E.T. Pornos. I'm sorry for giving you that knowledge. Do with it what you will.


End file.
